Stuck On Snape
by Rockeman
Summary: There's a new Muggle studies teacher...who is not only a Muggle, but a rather excentric one. She also takes quite a fancy to Professor Snape from the getgo.


Hello all! This is an interesting idea I have come up with, and I'm sure will at least be interesting. I would love to hear feedback, especially from others who have thought of similar situations before me! Much love to all!

**Disclaimer: **I do not, unfortunately, own Harry Potter, any of the franchise, or characters. Foomph. Unfair, if you ask me, but whatever.

**Chapter 1: A New Teacher Introduced**

The sky emptied its dreary contents upon the rather unappreciative young woman who was walking quickly down a dirt—now mud—path. The path led to a rather large building, full of towers, gables, and odd parts sticking out every which way, but she did not notice, for today they could not be seen as the entire morning had been full of such thick fog that you could cut it with a knife, and while it was letting up some, it still managed to keep a good many secrets which would have been obvious facts if the sun were out. Being incredibly chilled from the long ride in a car with no heating, thin gloves, and a tea thermos that seemed to not work at all, the young woman scarcely cared if the place was big or small, just as long as she was inside very quickly.

There was, or, perhaps I should say, had been, a welcome committee, but the weather had drove them inside and reduced their number to one, although nobody really knew what she looked like. No picture, had Julio Ortiz sent, but a description that mostly explained what she was qualified for and little else. She had not been able to send any letters either, but the transaction had been made solely through the former charms teacher, and his spotless record could not be denied, nor could his honesty (even if he was rather sarcastic) and so the young woman had been hired. Some of the welcoming committee was rather worried about how well she would take her new surroundings, what with the new teacher's quarters being renovated she would have to room with the students for a while, but only a week or two. Professor Ortiz also had said that she was usually cheerful about the state of things and small inconveniences such as having to sleep in a dormitory did not usually bother her, as long as it wasn't permanent.

By the time the young woman had approached the door, she was almost soaked, for the fog, which even the heavy rain did little to discourage, had seemed to seep into everything and she shivered. The door was large, wooden, and oddly carved, and just above her head was a large brass knocker, which had some deeply worn spots on it. The sight of such a curiosity and the moment to forget how cold she was, brightened up the poor girl, for despite the cold, she fervently loved rain and cloudy skies that made one think of being under a thick blanket, and she loved curious things even more. All in all, by the time the door had been opened she was in a good mood once again.

Dumbledore, had opened the door, and upon seeing Marie Kappelhoff, for that was her name, he smiled a bright smile and his eyes were nearly buried in their laugh-lines. The look he gave her, such sweet ungrudging kindness, simply caught her fancy and she smiled herself. Marie, knowing of her hair's unfortunate tendency to simply become fuzzy when it was damp and rainy outside, or of her face's unfortunate tendency to look much too big when her hair was wet enough to be plastered to her head, wondered what he thought of her, but decided upon his warm greeting that she liked him quite well enough anyway.

The headmaster was quite surprised himself, for he had imagined some light, pretty, wispy thing, with thin hair and a child's face, and what he found was a girl that took after her father, and although on the short side, not thin, and when smiling seemed to give off a young woman's partial sensibility and a young boy's congeniality. If not a very pretty face, it was a friendly one that showed emotion easily. Her short thick hair, which was in a present state of 'fuzzy' stood out from her head, not giving off the faint idea of an angel's halo, but of a happy, family face walking into the kitchen after being gone all day. Marie stuck out her hand, in a way that seemed most unceremonious, but was gratefully and humorously received by the old man. How very American, he mused, shutting the door and stepping back slightly into the still unlit Great Hall.

"Marie Kappelhoff, sir, and you are?" Her smiled broadened and her eyes almost closed as her cheeks started to lose their red color brought by the cold wind

"Albus Dumbledore, Miss Kappelhoff, I'm the headmaster," Dumbledore replied with amusement gracing his reply. "And I'm so pleased that you arrived so soon."

"Oh, me too, this place…it's kind of hard to see in the fog, but so far I love it. So curious and old." She started unbuttoning her overcoat, "And such a day for September! The last time I was in England was November last year and it still wasn't quite like this yet. Ireland's climate is quite alike sometimes. I love days like this." She confessed, still smiling, "Just as long as I have a nice warm jacket on." Marie's deep desire, as she noticed the marble floor, was to shake herself like a dog, but seeing immediately the inappropriateness of the gesture, she made the decision to act civilized for at least the first week, after which she would have arranged herself in a timely enough manner to start acting as though she had recently been discharged from the mental health clinic.

It was less than a minute later that Dumbledore led the young woman through a smaller, carved door and into another room. The room they had entered was a small lounge with little light, but a lovely, large fire going and Marie gazed at the room for a minute, just as interested as she had been with the door, for the furniture was odd-looking, and old, but comfortable, and though worn. She squelched to the coat rack and then turned to admire everything. It amazed her, for the room itself seemed to have a blanket of something hanging over it, something she couldn't name, but had a wonderful, sleepy yet electrical feel to it. Upon her inspection, and Dumbledore's invitation to take a seat, Marie settled into a deep, leather chair, which caused her too sink in farther, she was sure, than was good for her, but she stretched out her legs (this included her soaked trainers and trouser-legs, which were wet up to the knee) towards the welcoming fire and sighed.

"Holy Jehosephat, I could get used to this," She murmured to the quiet form of the headmaster, who had taken out a pipe and was lighting it. The pipe was old, given to him by Ortiz, in fact, and it had a story carved on it that the headmaster knew so well, he hardly looked at it carefully more than once a year. He was pondering it now, though. Luck was such an odd thing, an accident really…

After a nice, comfortable silence, Marie seemed to become tense, and Dumbledore sensed it, somehow, but it wasn't serious, he assured himself, just nervous about meeting the students, perhaps. "You know, I know that I'm here already, but Mr. Ortiz assured me I was hired and wouldn't answer my questions about what I was to be doing here…I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what I'll be teaching." Maybe it was slightly serious, Dumbledore admitted, trying to remember that Ortiz usually knew what he was doing. Dumbledore decided to speak as slowly as possible, hoping against all hope that Ortiz had told her _something_, but not exactly expecting the best. With Ortiz you never really were sure.

"You'll be teaching muggle studies, my dear. The old teacher left during the summer and we've not seen hide or hair of him since, very odd, considering what a sensible, grounded man he was."

"I'll be teaching what?" There was no smooth transition, just a complete disregard for his statement and a completely panicked curiosity.

There were times when Ortiz really went much too far. Dumbledore started to feel angry and took an indignant puff at his pipe. After being assured by the old teacher that there was nothing to be worried about and that she would be qualified for the job, the old teacher had not really told her anything. Now that was up to Dumbledore and he felt as he always did…when writing letters to the first year muggle-borns. This was not going to go very well, Dumbledore supposed. "Well, you see my dear, this school is Hogwarts."

"Yeah, I know that, but what—"

"School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore watched her blank expression in fascination, for it was quite like that of a waiter in a third world country that, when your complicate your order just nods and smiles…and brings you the regular order. She appeared completely clueless and suspecting you of speaking a different language. Soon, however, Marie Kappelhoff found her voice.

"Huh?" Not an incredibly eloquent voice, but a voice none-the-less. Before Dumbledore could repeat himself, however, Marie shook her head in a direct show of disbelief. "What a bunch of hooah!" She let out a nervous, forced laugh as she started to lean forward out of her chair. "That's funny, really funny. So, what's the deal? English or History?"

There was a moment of confusion during which the headmaster wondered if what he was now doing was the right thing, and Marie Kappelhoff nearly became yet another victim of cardiac arrest, but out of sheer surprise, and not because of high blood pressure, or, perhaps, obscene levels of cholesterol. The reason for Marie's surprise was in her discovery that her chair was hovering a few feet above the ground and that pointed directly at said chair was the headmaster's wand, or, that's what she suspected the object in his hand to be. After a few seconds of dumbfounded speechlessness Marie's voice managed to squeak itself into existence.

"OK, OK, I believe you," She clutched the sides of the chair she was in as she continued to levitate and her face suddenly became a very unhealthy shade of gray as she began to shriek like a banshee "_Putmedownputmedownputmedown_!"

Twenty minutes later, after a large amount of tea, and some assorted cucumber sandwiches, Marie managed to come out of her hysterics. She sighed deeply, and then sat up straight and glared at the headmaster. "You know, that was not very nice. When you break news like that, you usually try to do it a little more gently…for the love of—" Her angered mumblings were cut short as Dumbledore rose. His annoyed expression seemed to convey his feeling of the situation. Ortiz could never do anything the easy way, which was alright, Dumbledore supposed, except that Ortiz himself was never the one who had to pay for it in the long run.

"I'm sorry that Ortiz failed to tell you anything…" The headmaster reached for the words to use, seeming at a loss. "But, it's understandable for a two-hundred-year-old to feel rather above the law, I know I would." There are moments when, perhaps explanations are needed, or things ought to be said, and the person who's job destiny has ordained it to be simply does not come through. This was one of those times, unfortunately.

Marie Kappelhoff's face became a rather interesting shade of red, an almost purple, as she began to digest the information. Marie was one of the large demographic that seemed to have a hard time working around ideas that had been sharply introduced within the space of half a minute. If carefully introduced, she had little trouble accepting whatever was being given to her. This last piece of information, however, had not be introduced in a such a manner and Marie was having a very hard time. "Are you telling me," She finally managed to squeak out, "That my tenth grade grammar teacher, who looks to be about forty, is _two hundred_ years old?" after a minute or so of almost-sentences that were almost completely incomprehensible there was a long blubbering sigh as of air rushing noisily out of a fully inflated balloon.

Dumbledore made a mental note to make sure his head came into violent contact with one of the marble stairs very soon. He felt like he was drowning. This could not possibly get worse.

It was at this unfortunate moment, that Dumbledore suddenly seemed to see himself. In what he could only describe as an out of body experience, Dumbledore watched himself tell his new Muggle Studies teacher something that she had never expected to hear. The recollection as provided from his mind's eye caused a sensation akin to bubbles that reached from his toes all the way up to his throat. Dumbledore threw back his head and laughed harder than he had in a good many years.

"Marie Kappelhoff, perhaps I should take you on a tour…Welcome to Hogwarts!" and with a grand gesture, Dumbledore proceeded to lead the still incoherent muggle from the room, her soaked trainers squelching down the marble floor...

**Yes, I know you all love me, and trust me, you'll like this one…I hope. So, anyway, it can't take way too much of your time, so, if you please, click on that little purple button on the left-hand side of your screen at the bottom. If you would be so kind…**


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